American Football: King of the Bay Area

”Things are looking more and more grim for the San Francisco 49ers. As the second half gets underway, their offense needs to step it up. Otherwise, facing a Michael Vick who’s hitting his stride, tying the game—let alone pulling ahead—will be anything but easy. Now that we’re in Week 4 of the regular season, the intensity is cranking up. For a young squad like the San Francisco 49ers, the real test is just beginning.”

In the NFL regular season, it might sound incredible, but it’s a fact that countless teams start with a three-game winning streak only to finish with more losses than wins. Sometimes, all it takes is one mistake for everything to come crashing down.

After the Philadelphia Eagles’ offense came to life, it wasn’t just Kirk and Teddy; other commentators also started to feel a renewed sense of hope. For a neutral broadcast team, a more exciting game is always better. Otherwise, they’d be dozing off in the booth.

”The San Francisco 49ers are coming out in a Pistol Formation. Lu Ke is in the pocket with Anthony Dixon as the running back. Considering Dixon doesn’t have the same pass-catching ability as Lynch, can we assume this is a genuine Pistol Formation and not a Shotgun Formation disguised as one? In the first three games, Number 14’s ’pseudo-Pistol’ has certainly racked up a lot of yards.”

The excitement seemed to be contagious. Kirk’s voice became a little more animated as he looked on with anticipation for the San Francisco 49ers’ first offensive drive of the second half.

”Snap! Number 14 takes a drop back... wait, there’s a missed block on the right side of the Offense Line! The Eagles’ number 93 has broken through on the inside! The pocket is collapsing, the pocket is collapsing! Oh my God, there’s a blown assignment on the left side too! The Eagles’ number 97 executes a spin move to get past his man and break through, closing in on the 49ers’ quarterback with lightning speed!”

As he spoke, Kirk’s voice grew tense.

The next moment, Kirk wanted to shut his eyes. Even after witnessing countless chaotic moments on the field, his heart suddenly seized up, leaving him breathless. The commentary was coming out on pure instinct.

”Number 97, Jenkins—who was instrumental in the Green Bay Packers’ Super Bowl win this year—makes a powerful sack! It’s clean, ferocious, and powerful! And not just him, number 93, Babin, a Pro Bowl-level player, blitzed from another angle, forcing the 49ers’ quarterback right into Jenkins’ grasp before piling on to complete the sack!”

CRACK!

The sound of helmet-on-helmet impact was far too loud, far too sharp—like a ripe watermelon being smashed open. It echoed through the suddenly silent stadium, a horrifying sound. Even the Eagles fans held their breath, so shocked that all noise was cut short.

”Jesus Christ!” Kirk finally broke, clenching his fists, unable to bear watching. ”That was so vicious! That hit was just brutal! God, that’s horrible!” The scene wasn’t gory, but it was so cruel it was terrifying, like watching a life get snuffed out right there on the field.

Normally, Kirk would have cued up the slow-motion replay, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He was frozen in place.

Teddy glanced at his partner. He knew Kirk had been commentating on Lu Ke’s journey from the beginning, so his emotional investment was different. He took over the call. ”Let’s take another look at the slow-motion replay.” It was brutal, but they had to understand exactly what happened.

”After the snap, the two players on the right side of the 49ers’ Offense Line held their ground, but they failed to control the gap between them and the center. Babin shot through that gap, tearing open a seam and getting an unexpected inside penetration. He was on Lu Ke almost instantly, giving him no time or space.”

The video froze with Babin an arm’s length away from Lu Ke. Teddy used his pen to circle Jenkins on the left. ”On the other side, Jenkins put his full weight on number 62 for the 49ers, Chilo Rachal, using him as a pivot. With a single spin and step, he instantly broke through and closed in from the other side.”

”For Lu Ke, his blind side was completely unprotected. His first instinct was to dodge Babin and protect the football, but that played right into Jenkins’ hands. It was practically a freebie; Jenkins completed the sack without breaking a sweat. At the same time, as Babin charged in, both of their helmets slammed violently into Lu Ke’s...”

As he narrated, Teddy couldn’t help but furrow his brow. The screen replayed the moment of impact again—that sharp ”CRACK!” was terrifying. In slow motion, it was even more unbearable. A scene like this was just too brutal.

This is something no football fan ever wants to see.

Technology has advanced, the rules have improved, and the League’s protection of its players is always increasing. But no one has forgotten that in the early days of football, players were literally killed by hits on the field. This is, without a doubt, one of the most violent sports in the world.

But to create hype and to fully illustrate the situation, the director at Fox Television kept replaying the same shot over and over, a move that was cruel to the extreme.

”God, that hit was just awful,” Teddy finally blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Standing in the stands, Lech Steinberg shot to his feet. His hands, gripping his cane, tightened, then tightened again. His heart nearly stopped. The first image that flashed into his mind was the faces of Lu Zhengze and Jiang Youning. That kind, friendly couple, whose faces and eyes always shone with such warmth... He couldn’t imagine how he would face them if something happened to Lu Ke.

He’d been a force in the NFL for over thirty years, but right now, Lech was genuinely stunned.

...

”Oh!” Chris Wilson froze completely. A short, sharp gasp escaped his lips, but that was it. In the next instant, his thoughts, his muscles, his very breath—it all stopped. He stared, dumbfounded, at the television screen, his eyes wide with terror and panic. A wave of helpless despair washed over him, almost suffocating him.

”Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Jeff Locke clutched his head, all capacity for speech gone. He just kept repeating the word, over and over, not even aware he was talking. His vision blurred abruptly. Before he even realized it, his eyes were brimming with tears.

Cliff Hart shot to his feet, sending his barstool crashing to the floor with a dull THUD. The sound sent a ripple through the room, but it only served to emphasize the dead silence that followed. Cliff just stood there, shaking his head again and again, vehemently denying what he was seeing. ”Oh, God! Oh, God!” He was nearly gasping for air, his mouth wide open but unable to draw in a single breath.

All of Joe’s Bar seemed to fall into a rift in time. The sudden turn of events stunned everyone. A collective gasp echoed through the room, and then, in an instant, every breath was held. The very air seemed to have frozen solid.

’Damn it, damn it, damn it!’ Jonathan Baldwin cursed wildly in his mind, but no sound came out. He was just frustrated, resentful, and full of regret. ’If Number 14 gets injured just like that, what happens then? Does this mean the San Francisco 49ers’ hopes for the season are just... extinguished?’

’Hope?’

’It was only then that Jonathan realized it for the first time: Number 14, that undrafted rookie, was the team’s hope. ’God, what have I done? No, damn it, why didn’t I do anything?’ Jonathan sat frozen in his seat, completely still. His gaze lost focus as he sank into a complete daze.’

...

”Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Lu Ke’s getting up! God, oh God, oh my God!” Kirk screamed, completely beside himself, his voice cracking.

A moment ago, they had been in shock. The hit was incredibly vicious, even savage. Everyone knew Lu Ke was on the lighter side and that his durability was a weakness. A hit like that... even someone like Cam Newton wouldn’t have shaken it off easily. An injury seemed like a foregone conclusion. The only question was how severe it would be.

The next moment, their jaws dropped. Lu Ke was standing up. He wasn’t lying on the turf, he wasn’t clutching at an injury, and he wasn’t signaling for the medical staff. He looked... fine. He just stood there, completely unscathed, like a miracle.

”Lu Ke’s okay! Thank God.” Kirk could finally breathe again. ”Wait, are the medics coming on? No, Lu Ke is waving them off. He’s tapping his helmet, signaling that he’s fine. My God, it looks like that high-tech helmet really did its job. The sound was horrifying, but Lu Ke is okay. He’s okay.”

After that torrent of words, Kirk didn’t even realize his own eyes had welled up. The wave of emotion was so sudden and intense that he didn’t have time to process it, still lost in the shock of the moment.

He turned his head and saw Teddy let out a long, slow breath. A smile broke out on both their faces involuntarily. Teddy sighed with relief, ”Jesus Christ, that was a close call! I desperately want to cuss right now, but... since we’re on a live broadcast, I have to restrain myself. My God, I almost couldn’t breathe!”

A buzz rippled through the entire stadium, as if the crowd was still processing what they’d seen, caught in a prolonged state of shock.

Lu Ke got to his feet and saw Jenkins and Babin standing nearby. Both of them were frozen, unsure of what to do. Apologizing didn’t seem right, but neither did walking away. It was as if... as if they had just seen a Vampire rise from its coffin. Then, Lu Ke shot them a smile to show he was alright.

In response, the two of them turned and fled as if they’d seen a ghost.

Lu Ke stood there, frowning slightly. ’Huh, what was that about? Was my smile not friendly enough? I was trying my best.’ Lu Ke was completely baffled. ’Something about this scene feels... off.’